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Dreams and Facial Hair

There are two things I’d like to share today, totally unrelated except they have had me laughing since I saw them yesterday. Whenever I think about them, I laugh and so I must share.

Isn’t that what this whole bloggin’ thing’s about? Sharing?

One is my brother’s facial hair and his wife’s amazing PhotoShopping skills. He had a little too much fun shaving off his beard a few weeks ago and this was the result:

Yes. I am related to this person and proud of it. I cannot stop laughing.

The second thing I’d like to share is a blog whose most recent entries killed me. I am dead. Knowing about my recent demise makes this whole blog entry all the more remarkable, I’m sure. Maybe it’s worth some money now. Weren’t all the great works by artists worth more after their creators kicked the bucket? Please send money.

I’ve been reading Goslyn’s blog Wishful Thinking off and on for a while now. She’s a great writer and very funny. What caught my eye yesterday was an entry about her own writing, making comparisons to my nemesis Ernest Hemingway and an entry about some dreams she’s had about me lately. Just mentioning the entries makes me laugh out loud. Please go read her if you’ve ever read much Hemingway or if you want to know about my psychotic dream infiltrating skills.

I was born middle-name deprived, so I wanted my middle name to be Brett.

It’s all coming together now. The bullfights. The (virgin) tequila. France. The sound of the richocheting bullets faded. Brett lay down to sleep (except that her children are still awake, so I guess not).